I'd Rather Be Nothing
by ImpossibleElement
Summary: Sometimes things end. That's just the way that it is. Sometimes things can't go on anymore, at least not in the same manner they had. John and Sherlock knew that better than anyone else.


**I'd Rather Be Nothing**

Sometimes things end. That's just the way that it is. Sometimes things can't go on anymore, at least not in the same manner they had. John and Sherlock knew that better than anyone else. They had lost way more than the usual person ever could think of having to give up. They had fought so hard for things that always ended up in heaps of ashes at their feet. Yet, it never was any easier when they could see the end of a good thing approaching. Not over yet, but just close enough that you could recognise the finish line, getting closer and closer without knowing how to stop.

The feeling had creeped in one day. Life was suffocating them both. Dragging them in opposites directions and as much as they tried, they couldn't seem to shake up that hold, not able or not willing to sever a pull so strong of something just going right for once. Growing apart further and further away so slowly that neither of them noticed it, at least not until it was too late. Until the thread had snapped and they were left wondering whatever happened. Sometimes things just get all mixed up and there is no way to solve them.

They had met two years prior. On a saturday night at a singing bar; a run down place that wasn't really very extravagant to start with. The had both been out separately, John with his friends, Sherlock on his own. The blonde had watched the younger man stand awkwardly next to the bar for more than twenty minutes and couldn't seem to be able to allow that to happen any longer. He came over, got close to Sherlock and introduced himself. Just like that. Nothing fancy or complicated. He just said _"Hello there, I'm John Watson."_ and they were doomed. For two people who were weary of getting involving with other persons, they had seemed to take on with each other surprisingly, ridiculously fast. The both of them forgetting that they had never wanted to get involved in those things. Ignoring the fact that mostly likely dismissing this specific fact may as well just kill them.

After that, the both of them became inseparable. In love in an almost sickening way and supportive of the other's aspirations for life. They fitted with each other like they had been made exactly for that very reason. Two very strong, smart men on their own, but together they seemed inseparable. John was studying to become a doctor, Sherlock was part-student part-amateur detective and life had seemed great for a while.

But everything has a price; happiness is expensive and life doesn't grant you unlimited share of anything. Their relationship started to get complicated. Less and less time spent together, forgetting things that were essential, until it became a fact that they never sleep together in bed, not at the same time anyway; their schedules evolving into frantic and disorganised inconsistency that they had stopped pretending.

That morning the last words were said. None of them knew anything about each other anymore. They had neglected their relationship, taking it for granted and there appeared to be nothing they could do to fix it. John had stormed out of the flat, yet Sherlock knew he would never come back, not in the same way. He had lost him, and John had lost him. And it hurt in such a horrible way.

He went to have a walk of his own, wanting to clear his head before he chocked with the overwhelming grief. He must have wandered for hours, until the sun was going down and he found himself in front of a familiar building. The bar were he and John had first met. The windows were covered with wood, and it seemed to have gone out of business quite a while ago. That sent another stab of pain through his body, he _hated_ endings.

He found it easy to sneak inside, there was really not a door that could stop him, just some planks that were wide enough apart to squeeze in. Dust covered the surfaces, the chairs were stacked and the whole place just felt so dead that he felt ready to start crying again. He walked to the bar and traced a finger over its smooth top, closing his eyes and remembering everything about that night; the lights, the noise, the charming older boy that charmed him from the first smile.

When he opened his eyes, the place was not empty anymore. John was there, standing in front of him with red-rimmed eyes and a sad smile. The detective thought he still looked as handsome as he had that day. John gazed around the place, clearly having the same feeling he had had earlier. He came to stand beside him, neither of them looking at the other.

"We had so many dreams." John commented, feeling as a ball of anxiousness was blocking his airways. "The doctor and the detective," He said whimsically. "We were going to conquer the world." It was an admission as honest as Sherlock had ever heard. The doctor never lied, but sometimes he could be so raw that it rendered the younger man motionless.

"Things never turn out the way you want them to." He agreed, daring a glance to the other's face, only to find it already looking at him. There wasn't really much to say to that, yet he foolishly hoped for an answer. "I'm so tired of endings." He admitted, when he saw no reply forthcoming. Shutting his eyes to keep the tears inside. Maybe things between them were damaged, perhaps beyond repair. But it still hurt to lose it, to lose that possibility.

"Then let's not." John said, surprising him. With a look on his face very different that it had been just a few seconds before. "End." He explained, licking his lips and grabbing one of the detective's hands. "We both hate endings." He said as if he had just been the subject of an epiphany. "Then let's not let it end. Let's try." The most scary words Sherlock had ever heard, yet at the same time, the best.

"What if we try just to fail again?" He asked worried, he had already invested so much into this relationship, it had become his life, yet he was terrified that if they kept doing this, they would eventually end up worse when this actually blew over.

"Everything is better than walking away like you want me to." John commented fiercely, and it did make sense. Sherlock was trying to push him away, finish things before they had another chance to hurt him. Yet, that was not what he really desired. "We start all over again." John said simply. Staring at his younger man's face. "And again, and again. All that we need to." He promises and the detective does like the sound of that. Never ending. Just beginning over and over again until it was inevitable that life took one of them away forever.

Sherlock separated from the blonde and extended his hand, "Hello there," He said. "I'm Sherlock Holmes." Mimicking the expression from all those years ago. John shook it and smiled, responding with a short. "John Watson." Things were far from fixed, they would have to try a lot harder if they ever wanted to get past what they had already set free to the wind. But in that moment none of it seemed that scary, it felt just _right_.

They spent hours just standing there, the two men so accustomed to finishing things, to saying goodbye, refused to let this be an ending. Choosing instead to let it be a beginning. As many times as it was needed.

Author's note: Where we can all pretend that we can be something.

Inspired by the unreleased Cheap Lights from Gerard Way.

The last of the series. I hope You enjoyed it.


End file.
